


I'm Running Out of Time to Kill Myself Before I Die

by suicider00m



Category: Phandom/The Fantastic Foursome (YouTube RPF)
Genre: Alcohol, Angst, Depression, Implied/Referenced Suicide, M/M, Self-Harm, Suicidal Thoughts, can be read as platonic or romantic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-10
Updated: 2016-04-10
Packaged: 2018-06-01 09:16:52
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 494
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6512416
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/suicider00m/pseuds/suicider00m
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>We have romantic fantasies about what dying truly is.</p>
            </blockquote>





	I'm Running Out of Time to Kill Myself Before I Die

**Author's Note:**

> haha i've stopped taking my meds for some reason so i'm kind of fucked up rn
> 
> Possibly triggering, please read the tags. Also involves romanticization of serious issues, those ideas do not reflect those of the author blah blah blah I'm pretty sure you get it.
> 
> so i kind of had this realization about how different the view is between depressed ppl and not depressed ppl. like seriously, it's kind of crazy to think about. as someone who has been chronically depressed for almost my entire life, the idea that these thoughts/ideas aren't normal is really strange to think about. like, it's weird to me that ppl don't think about killing themselves. idk, i'm vaguely suicidal and i recently realized that even though i'm better off now than where i was a year ago, i'm still so far from being really okay which is funny because i'm the best i've fucking been in a very long time.
> 
> Description is from Glowing Eyes by Twenty One Pilots.

“Sometimes I think about killing myself.”

Dan’s on the floor of the living room, his hands resting against his stomach as he stares up at the ceiling. He’s drunk, far too drunk if he’s talking about _this_.

“Yeah?” Phil says from his place on the couch, one arm hanging off the edge. He turns his head so he can look at Dan.

“Yeah. Like, I wouldn’t do it or anything, I just like to think about how I _would_ do it, you know?”

“No.”

“Oh.”

They sit in silence for a few minutes, Dan staring at the ceiling as Phil stares at him.

“It’s just,” Dan says, “I don’t want to die? I don’t think so, anyways. But I like the theatricality of the whole thing. It’s just so tragically beautiful. Like Shakespeare or Plath or Palahniuk, it’s artistic.”

“Suicide isn’t beautiful, Dan.”

“I’m not saying it is!”

“Well then what are you saying?”

Dan huffs out an exasperated sigh. “It’s the idea of it, you know? Taking away the only thing you really have. Taking a bottle of pills and falling asleep, never to wake up again. The bathwater turning red because of the blood that spills from your wrists. The feeling of freedom while falling towards the harsh reality of death. It’s poetic. I’d love to take a bottle of sleeping pills - I feel like those would be the nicest. Just down the whole bottle, maybe have a cup of cocoa before I drift off. I’d just go off in my sleep, peacefully. I’d like that.

“It’s not like I’d actually ever do it, I just like to fantasize. It’s like when you cross the street and think about a car hitting you, or when you’re on a bridge and think about jumping off. The French say it’s ‘the call of the void’ or some shit like that. The idea of oblivion is just so relaxing that you can’t help but want to get there as quickly as possible. It’s alluring, you know? The idea of no more hurt, no more pain, no feelings at all. You don’t have to try to distract yourself from the constant bullshit around you. 

“Sometimes I take the box cutter - you know, the one in the rubbish drawer? I like to use it to cut my thighs sometimes, as a distraction. I don’t go deep or anything, nothing that will scar permanently. I just like the aesthetic of it, as ridiculous as that sounds. I like the idea of being so hurt that the only distraction is even more pain. I’ve tried burning and bruising myself as well, but it’s not the same; there’s just something so pretty about the way you bleed.”

They fall into silence once again. Then, “That’s kind of fucked up, Dan.”

Dan snorts a laugh, a wry smile making its way onto his face as he turns his head to look at the other boy. 

“I’m kind of fucked up, Phil.”

**Author's Note:**

> to the people that read a lot of my stuff: do you guys get tired of all the angst? im working on this adventure-type fic thats got a little bit of everything in it but im having some trouble with it. i realized that i basically only write angst and i dont think thats necessarily a bad thing because i think im pretty okay at it?? but yeah my point is do any of you want me to try and write something happier? or filled with sin? just curious 
> 
> also im working on this super sad fic that deals with serious sexual child abuse and im kind of wavering on whether i want to continue writing it atm so i might put it on hold if you guys are in the mood for some less sad stuff
> 
> idk feel free to ignore this or send me bees in the mail
> 
> its 2 am
> 
> im sorry


End file.
